


Toro

by absolutelyCancerous (cal1brations)



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Bullfighting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-01
Updated: 2013-12-01
Packaged: 2018-01-03 04:51:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1065971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cal1brations/pseuds/absolutelyCancerous
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Antonio is screaming along with the rest of the crowd—“¡<i>Olé</i>!”—but Romano is completely silent, mouth closed as he stares at the limping bull and the cocky matador.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Toro

“I can’t see! I can’t see, dammit!”

“Here, let Jefe hold you up.” Antonio laughs, hoisting up the small boy and letting him climb up onto his shoulders, making sure to hold his small knees as they stand with the rest of the crowd.

“See? Nothing’s happened yet, Romano.”

“Where’s the matador? He’s  _late_!”

Antonio grins, adjusting Romano on his shoulders with a small jump. Finally, a man walks into the ring, holding up a hand, and the entire stadium goes crazy, screaming and throwing flowers down to him. Some women even begin to cry, and Antonio is surprised that Romano has fallen so quiet during the commotion.

Something is announced, and Romano slaps his hands on Antonio’s head to demand a simple translation.

“They said that he’s been doing this for awhile, and they’re going to start—!  _Ay_! No kicking, Romano!”

Romano watches intently as the man is handed a red flag from the sidelines, and the crowd begins screaming again when the bull is shoved into the ring, stomping, snorting and all. Antonio even yells a bit, too, because it  _is_  a spectator sport, but Romano does not make any noise, only holds his hands in Antonio’s hair tightly as he watches the fight.

The man teases the bull, offering the flag then yanking it away, avoiding getting headbutted. He has something in his hand Romano can’t quite make out, and he leans close to Antonio’s ear, to make sure Boss can hear him speak.

“What’s in his hand?”

“A spear.”

Romano almost asks why the matador would need a spear, but suddenly, there’s an eruption of screams and people jumping up, hands in the air. Romano quickly focuses back to the ring, and watches the moment the spear is slammed into the bull’s back, the matador holding up his hands in victory, his body heaving with exertion.

Antonio is screaming along with the rest of the crowd—“¡ _Olé_!”—but Romano is completely silent, mouth closed as he stares at the limping bull and the cocky matador. He doesn’t know who to root for, but this is something he’s never seen before, and it’s shocking.

The man goes in three more times, which takes awhile between each spear he stabs into the beast’s shoulders and back, but everyone screams in delight, even when blood begins dripping down from the wounded animal and stains the dirt. Antonio tries to get a rise out of Romano a few times, smiling up at him and asking what he thinks, but Romano is too focused on what’s going on to say anything.

When the matador is holding the longest spear—the deadly blow—the bull tries a last resort. He manages to slam into the man, knocking him to the ground, and steps on him while it tries to get away with clumsy legs, but the matador is up in a moment, shaking it off and getting a massive rise from the crowd. He readies himself, and his red flag, and draws the bull in. At the last moment, he slams the spear into the bull’s back,  _all_  the way in, and the people in the stadium go completely crazy, screaming and throwing flowers again, handkerchiefs, anything that is meaningful down into the ring, to congratulate the matador on his victory, and his brush with death.

Antonio gets a little excited when he hears Romano’s voice from atop his shoulders, but within a moment, he feels Romano hiccup against the back of his head, and realizes that Romano is crying, not cheering. When Antonio looks up, Romano’s face is red with his screaming, tears dripping down onto the top of the Spaniard’s head, and the boy screams, “ _Misericordia_!” over and over— _Mercy_!

He lets Romano down, although the boy is still screaming, and quickly picks him up once more, cradling the child’s face to his neck and quickly stepping away from their seats, to exit the stadium and get him out where there isn’t as much violence and screaming.

Romano still cries, hiccuping between cries every now and again. He doesn’t hit Antonio, which is surprising, because Antonio has never seen Romano get upset over something and  _not_  hit and kick; then again, it wasn’t something of Antonio’s that has him so upset.

“It’s okay, Romano,” he says, trying to bounce the boy a little on his hip. “ _No hay problema_.”

“ ** _Mucho_** _problema_!” Romano screams, hitting Antonio’s arm. Antonio sighs, rubbing Romano’s back, and feels a little guilty when the boy starts crying again, wailing, “ _Toro_!” into Antonio’s shoulder miserably as they make their way home.

.

When he puts Romano to bed that night after a walk, Romano puts his hands together in prayer, so Antonio bows his head and lets Romano say Hail Mary for the two of them.

Then, he adds after, “I pray for the bull from today, too.”

“Romano,” Antonio starts softly, but the boy is already beginning to cry again, and he sighs instead, trying to pat Romano’s leg gently.

“That man has a  _job_  to—“

“That matador is—is—is a  _puto_!”

“Romano!”

“ _Bastardo_!”

“ ** _Silencio_**!”

Romano crosses his arms with a huff, turning to lie down away from Antonio, to face the window and try very hard not to gasp for a breath as he forces out tears. Antonio asks him to look this way several times, but after no response, the elder only rubs Romano’s arm gently before saying a quiet goodnight and closing his bedroom door on his way out.

.

Antonio wakes up, in the dark, to his bedroom door being thrown open, and a familiar wail making him cringe. He chokes when Romano dives onto his bed (onto his stomach, dear  _God_ ) and burrows his head under Antonio’s arm.

Sighing, Antonio turns over a little, to wrap an arm around the boy rather than have him crushed under his arm. “What happened?”

“ _Toro_!” Romano wails, covering his face. Antonio silently notes that they will  _never_  be attending another match again, and rubs slow circles on Romano’s heaving chest, hoping to soothe him in some way.

“There are no bulls here, Romano,” he assures. “Only bulls in the stadium. It was just a bad dream, _pequeño_.”

Romano makes a weak noise, wiping his eyes on his nightgown sleeves. He’s quiet for awhile, save for a bit of sniffling. Antonio, stupidly, almost falls asleep again, but Romano shakes him awake with a violent glare.

“You can’t go to sleep! Not before me, jackass!”

Antonio sighs, rubbing his eyes and staring up t the ceiling. “What will help you sleep, Romano?”

“I don’t know,” he huffs, wiggling so that his cheek pins down Antonio’s arm to the bed. “I’m never sleeping again.”

“It was just a bad dream—no bull is going to  _really_  hurt you, unless you become a matador.”

Romano shakes his head a bit. His voice is thick with tears when he talks again. “But they killed that bull for nothing—for  _fun_!”

Antonio turns his head a little, to witness Romano’s eyes glazed with tears; a very painful sight. He pats the boy’s head, which earn him a little grunt of disapproval.

“Sometimes things die, Romano, and when it’s things we eat—“

“Like bulls.” Romano interrupts, and Antonio nods.

“—like bulls,  _s_ _í_ , it’s no good to get upset over it. Understand? It’s the same with the tomatoes and the grapes—or anything. It’s sad when they die, but crying won’t bring them back, and there are plenty others that are still alive.”

Romano is quiet, which is fairly amazing, but Antonio adds with a smile, “So no more crying about the plants, either, Roma.”

“Shut up!” Romano squawks, shoving Antonio’s side harshly, but the elder only laughs, bringing in the child for a big hug that earns him a headbutt to the underside of his jaw.

“Making fun of me—I should get the squirrels to pee in  _your_  bed, asshole!”

Antonio sits up a bit, aiming a finger at the boy. “Don’t you dare, Romano.”

He huffs again, burying his face into Antonio’s pillows and pulling the covers up over his head. He doesn’t ask for anything more, but Antonio still stays awake, just to make sure he hears the evening out of Romano’s breaths and hears the boy fall asleep; only then does he settle down himself with a quiet sigh, falling asleep almost instantly.

In the morning, however, Romano is up early, as usual. He jumps on the bed, yelling for Antonio to get up, and slams to sit down over Boss’s stomach, making him yell out and sit up.

“I’m up, I’m awake!”

“Make us breakfast, jerk!”

And things are back to normal.


End file.
